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Ra knew worship when it touched Him.

He valued courage for the rarity it was, and so when the scholar threw himself into the path of destruction and onto Ra's mercy, the decision to keep him was simple. If the act of ripping His sigil from the neck of a heretic was pleasurable, it was no fault of Ra's. If the wonder in the man's eyes moved silks with the weight of Ra's cock, well, it was only to be expected.

That He pressed the stammering scribe back into sun-drenched linens and the ghost of jasmine ...well. Service to one's god was as natural as desert air.

The Tau'ri, Dan-yel, was sublime. Soft and yielding with a core of pure naquadah. His aching cries were pleasant and his pale resurrected skin was first warm, then slick with feral-sweat under Ra's greedy hands. Eyes, the like of which Ra had not witnessed in eons, squeezed tight shut as he was examined, found worthy and stroked relentlessly.

They opened, unseeing and desperate as Ra slid inexorably into the tight squirming sheath of his body, and through it all, the man refused to beg.


Magnificent beast.

What an excellent priest this Dan-yel would make... What plans his god had for him!

For a time, boredom would have no sway, not while this lovely Vessel graced His side.

Lotar. Yes.

A mind worthy of expansion, a body worthy of much use.

Firstly, though, this Dan-yel needed to learn his place. Here in this bower of luxury, Ra vowed to teach him well. Soon this man’s companions would know Ra’s might, but none of them would experience His dominance as exquisitely, nor as personally,  as the one who’d thought himself Ra’s equal. 

The man in question convulsed with an inarticulate squeal, scrabbling uselessly at the cushions and Ra laughed in delight, hips speeding as the scent of defiance swirled. It was no matter to Him at the moment, how the Tau'ri chose to take his Lord’s unique mixture of discipline and blessing. Ra had forgotten what challenge felt like, had lost the sense of how it could stir the blood and enrich the senses. This was glorious, feeling the power and determination of a man full grown warring with Him for every laborious inch.  

He pressed and spread the man’s legs wider, used His superior strength to splay Dan-yel out, thighs swept apart like the brilliant peacock fans of His audience chamber; all the better to watch the thickness of the sun’s glory spearing into that slick reddened hole. Held him up and open, upper thighs locked in the flex of His slender forearms, relishing every head toss and choked curse the man spewed.

   “You used that honeyed voice to rally and comfort my enemies, sweet Mnevis...and so I claim it for my own!” He hissed, voice thunderous in the draped enclosure of the low bed. “Speak for me now!”

The man had the audacity to clamp his lips shut, to willfully withhold what He, All-Seeing Ra, had decreed? Perhaps a more direct lesson was needed, then. No matter that the steely glare in the scholar’s eyes brought a tingling, sparking up through His balls until he wanted nothing more than to plant His seed as deep as possible.

   “If you will not speak…what good are you?” He purred, burying Himself to the hilt in one abrupt smooth motion. His thumbs stroked the cords that stood out, pulsing as the Tau'ri , fighting himself now more than he fought Ra, strove to swallow the scream rumbling and gasping out of his chest. His legs trembled and jerked, his entire body writhing in a parody of sexual compliance.

   “Oh yesssssss.”  Most refreshingly engaging.

The god had little use for the Tau'ri’s professed skills - He needed no history – He was History. He needed no interpreter, no translation, to read the truth in the man's skin, to see how he craved touch with a hunger that brought shame to sky-touched depths.

Even his shame was delicious.

Ra amused Himself with fingers wound tightly in the chain of His sigil, wrapped it well and watched as His newest worshipper felt the necklace's slow, steady cinch. He breathed in the supplicant's sweat and pain, plunged forward into rippling heat when the Tau'ri let out a strangled plea of a whimper. 

   “I don’t... want... to die…”


How he’d  fought!

Teeth bared in a snarl as the Lord of the Circle took his due.

Spilled and spurted with savage thrusts into the cattle who dared wear the mark of His justice.

Smiled sweetly when the tears ran down and that stubborn mouth hung lax and silent. Blue eyes bored into His, then lowered, lashes damp with disbelief.

The chain was warm when Ra allowed it slip slowly from his grasp, and His Priest coughed weakly, a low moan ebbing out of his abused throat. The memories of mastery that simple sound provoked gratified the sun-god to no end. Long tapered fingers stroked and pinched as He murmured softly, soothing the weeping man as He would any mount which had amused Him.

The mark of His Sigil’s use was plain in the smooth skin of the quiescent man’s neck and that too pleased Ra.

   “You will speak when you are commanded.” The unspoken hung between them, and the Tau'ri made no overture to break that silence.

No, Dan-yel would not be so forthcoming with his childish opinions and ideals in the future.

If in His satisfaction, Ra missed the icy gleam of hatred in Daniel Jackson's eyes, it was a small price to pay.

After all, it had been long since a mere bull sacrifice had pleased Ra so greatly.